Finding Yourself
by Lovable Ange
Summary: When Dr. House is forced to stay away from the Hospital for two weeks, what will he do? Who will he talk to?


Title: Finding Yourself

Rating: PG-13 (for some language)

Summary: House finds himself in a predicament when Cuddy forces a paid leave on him. He has no one to talk to, nothing to do, and nowhere to go? What does a man like House think about when he's all alone?

A/N: This is my first House Fanfic, and probably my last. I'm not sure if I'm doing too well, but I guess I'll give it a shot. This is only going to be a short thing unless it's successful. In that case, I'll add more. If you read, please review. I'd like to see what everyone thinks, and what I should change. Thanks.

Dr. House sat in a darkened room, his cane in hand and his face set into a solemn scowl. He was not at the hospital working, as he should. He was not in the company of his so-called conscience—Dr. Wilson. He was not ordering Chase, Cameron, and Foreman around. HE felt alone and useless. Usually, solitude was appealing to him, but not when it was forced on him.

Dr. Cuddy had insisted that he take a break. She urged him to go on vacation to "find himself". She suggested some place exotic like Hawaii or the Caribbean, or Fiji. But did he go to any of those places? No. He sat in his apartment. He sat in the darkness. There was no one to ease his forced loneliness.

He could not understand why he was lonely, and that puzzled him even further. Being logical and figuring things out was usually his forte, but his own mind and feelings eluded him like an enigma.

He contemplated calling Wilson to see if he'd be willing to leave the wife he claims to love so much to keep him company, but he had eventually decided against it. Wilson tended to get a little touchy-feely when he could see that House was upset about something. He didn't want to deal with that. He wanted to not have to talk about his feelings, but just have someone there to reassure him that he wasn't completely alone.

The pill bottle called to him from the pocket of his coat across the room. He used his cane to assist himself in standing, and he limped over to the coat rack. He pulled the little orange prescription bottle from his coat, and he popped the cap off. He let a pill slide out into the palm of his hand, and he examined it.

Was that little white dose of vicoden his only friend? Was it the only think he cared about and vise versa? He told himself "no it wasn't" but something inside of him said that it was. He couldn't ever be sure. People were so unpredictable. He was so unpredictable. He could barely tell what he would be feeling next: guilt, pain, pleasure, joy, annoyance…

He popped the pill in question into his mouth, and he chewed it up. The unpleasant taste filled his mouth, but he did not flinch or make a face. He'd grown accustomed to it. He put the cap back on the bottle and returned it to his coat. By the time the taste was gone, he was making his way back to his place on the piano bench.

He turned toward the keys. The ivory was losing its shine and luster. He put his fingers in place to play. His fingers pressed the keys gently and the product was a slow tune. It almost sounded like a mournful death march. He closed his eyes and let his fingers coax the notes from the piano.

He was interrupted by an abrupt knock on the door. He stopped playing. Who could it be? He guessed Cameron. She always seemed to find him when he was feeling crappy. Sometimes she made him feel worse. He made his way to the door, and he unlocked the deadbolt, not bothering to glance through the peephole. He pulled the door open, but he did not find the person whom he'd expected.

"House," said the Australian-accented voice of Robert Chase. He nodded to House in a slight greeting.

"You're not who I expected," House said simply, not fully returning the greeting. He rubbed the scruffy stubble on his chin. He'd have to shave soon enough, but he didn't really feel like it at the moment. He felt like sitting down. His medication was kicking in.

"Who were you expecting, then?" Chase asked, raising light eyebrows.

"Cameron," stated House. He glanced down the hall. Chase had come alone. He wondered why.

"Well, you don't always get what you want, do you?" countered Chase. He arched a single brow and crossed his arms over his chest. He was wearing one of his plaid shirts with a striped tie and a brown jacket. House always found himself thinking that he had no fashion sense whatsoever.

"I don't want—"

Chase did not allow him to finish. "That's quite contrary to what I've seen, House." He was teasing him but being very serious about it.

"Quite contrary?" House asked. "What's next? Are you going to ask how my garden grows?"

"With vicoden and feeling dim?" Chase offered with a chuckle.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" House rolled his eyes ever so slightly. Chase was not the person he'd really wanted to see. He would have liked to see Cameron. He just didn't want to admit it.

"Have to be. I went through med-school, didn't I?"

"Yes, and that makes you a genius. Look at Cuddy. She's the head of the hospital and she cant' see that I'm perfectly fine working like I always do." House's words were harsh, cruel, and angry.

"She's only concerned…"

'If she was so concerned, she would have asked me what I felt on the matter, seeing that it's my life and career we're dealing with. Did she do that? No. She forced me out of the hospital…" He stopped. He was still over-heated, but he found it useless saying it to Chase. "Do you want to come inside?" He grumbled.

Chase nodded, and he entered the apartment after House stepped to the side and out of his way. "It's kind of dark in here, eh?" He took off his coat and put it on the rack.

He flicked the light switch on, but he almost regretted doing so. He squinted his eyes because they had been so adjusted to the darkness. "I like it dark." He rubbed his eyes a little bit.

"It suits you."

There was an odd moment of silence. Neither said anything. Chase just sat down on the couch, and House took a seat on the chair across from him. He idly tapped his fingers on the handle of his cane.

Chase ended the quiet, "Why didn't you tell me?"

House was caught off guard. "About what?"

"About m'dad," Chase said, "He told me that you knew about the cancer. That you found out when he was here."

"Has he died?" House questioned sounding slightly concerned. He had spoken to Chase's dad a couple of times. He had figured out that it was cancer that brought him to see his son. The father obviously couldn't confide in the son. House thought it was pathetic, yet upon the mention of it, his conscience prodded at his emotions.

"No," said Chase, shaking his head. He took in a breath. "He's close to it, though. I doubt he's got another couple of months in him."

"I'm sorry," He was, for once, being completely sincere.

Chase was astounded, but he only showed it minimally in his appearance. He had tried to hold it back all together because he didn't mean to offend House, but he had failed. He saw that House's face went blank, and his eyes drifted away.

"Do you really think me that cold hearted?" House asked, not looking at the other doctor. He felt slightly hurt.

"No. I just…" He couldn't find words that con properly convey his feelings. There were mixed emotions of surprise and guilt. He was surprised that House would actually be that sincere when saying something. He didn't think it was probable, nor possible. He thought that House's emotion ranged on two levels: joyful when teasing him and the other doctors, or grumpy from lack of vicoden. He knew that it was a shallow way to think, but it was how he felt.

"You just what? You thought that my heart was 2 sizes too small?" He shook his head and glared at Chase. "I'm no Grinch, you know." His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

"Are you sure?" Chase almost laughed. He could imagine House stealing Christmas merely for the fact that candy canes offended him. "Because, I mean, you've got the whole look going for you." He motioned to his face. "The beard, and the angry glint in your eyes. Dr. Seuss would be terrified."

House's mouth did an odd thing. Half of it was raised in a grin. "Look who's developing a bit of a wit? I'm almost proud." He laughed a little under his breath.

This made Chase laugh out loud. "You know, we never got along."

"You noticed that too, huh?" He asked. His cynicism was very apparent in his voice when he spoke.

"I think it's the working conditions," Chase explained. "We're always under so much pressure that we're either biting each other's heads off or you're boxing mine and Foreman's ears for something. We never have time to really talk about anything besides sick and dying people."

"Why do you say that I yell at just you and Foreman. Not only am I a Grinch, but I'm a self-prejudice sexist Grinch too?" House inquired.

"You give Cameron Special treatment. Maybe it's because of your date…" Dr. Chase lifted a single brow.

"If you're thinking of buying me flowers and taking me out to the movies, you can forget it. I'm not really into blondes." He pressed his lips together as a small, mocking smile spread across them.

Chase shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. "I'd always wondered if you were always sarcastic." He shrugged. "I guess I just found out."

House snorted. Chase was trying too hard to cheer him up. Maybe he was trying to suck up to him. Maybe he was fishing for a promotion. House was sure that all Robert Chase really cared about was furthering himself in his career. He was cut off of his train of thought when Chase continued asking him questions.

"Why do you favor Cameron?" Chase pressed him for information. "Why are you usually easier on her?" He leaned forward.

"Because…" He didn't want to say anything about Cameron's husband and baby. He didn't want to reveal her dark, painful past. He would have to sacrifice his own pride for her feelings. "Because of the date. I felt bad that she didn't get what she wanted out of it. Are you happy?"

Chase smirked. He knew it. He was sure that he'd known it all along, but he had just wanted to confirm it.

"Why did you come here anyway?" House asked, changing the subject hastily. "I know it's not because we're such good friends."

"Definitely not that," Chase said. He stood up, and he walked over to his coat. He pulled it off of the rack, and he put it on. He reached his hand into the pocket and he handed something to House.

"My Gameboy?" House questioned.

"You left it on your desk, and I figured you might want it. It'll give you something to do for the next two weeks." Chase shrugged in an unconcerned fashion.

"Ah," House said. "That's it?"

Chase nodded and confirmed. "That's it." He put his hands in his pockets, and he glanced around. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he couldn't do it. He shrugged again. "I'd better be going."

"Hot date?" House inquired. "With Cameron? Maybe you'll give her special treatment after the date too." He was still quite offended about what Chase had suggested earlier, but he had lied and confirmed the blond doctor's suspicions.

Chase blushed a little. He shook his head, and he told his superior, "No. I've got to get home."

"And do what?" House tilted his head to the side. "Practice being me, so you'll be able to make it through the next few weeks?"

Chase didn't dignify House's question with an answer. Instead, he walked out of the apartment silently, and he then closed the door behind him, leaving House all alone again.

House sighed. He, once again, felt the cold stab of loneliness. He heaved a rather large sigh, and he stood up. He strode across the room, taking his sweet, precious time, and he turned the lights off. He was so secluded, solitary. Was that his fault? Did he isolate people on purpose? He took one last look around his dark, empty apartment, and he hobbled into his bedroom. Another night alone. Another night to find himself.

A/N: Well. That's the end (for now if you people like). Read and review. Tell me what you think. Bye!


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